


Togetherness

by eleanor_lavish, thepsychicclam



Series: Valiant Effort [16]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas with Valiant Effort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Togetherness

**Author's Note:**

> Written by EL.

Sean and Viggo had arrived early on Christmas Eve with a ham and sweet potato pie and plenty of rum for the nog. It was their first Christmas in the States and the boys of Valiant Effort had invited more Americans to make sure it all went smoothly. Elijah was indignant that he could have run things just fine, thank you but he was so happy to have Sean’s whipped potatoes, his mouth was too full to argue. He wasn’t heading home, and his parents were still confused as to why (“what do you mean they have a Christmas term? Is this extra? Are all the students who study Jewish philosophy Jewish? You should tell them you’re not, Lijah.”). Elijah wanted a band Christmas more than anything. They had a virtual feast that afternoon, with puddings and turkey and trimmings and plenty of buttered rum and mulled cider, funded by Orli’s plane ticket home for the holidays, cashed in the day it arrived. Orlando called his mom to say thank you but they had a gig; he knew it was due to her “oversight” that the ticket was refundable at all.

They ate and drank and were merry together. They all shared a family tradition that they loved. Dom shared his Da’s famous grog recipe from the Germany years. Billy taught them the traditional Scottish dance he and his sister used to do for his parents, all of them laughing and tripping over each other’s feet. Elijah set up baskets of popcorn and forced them all to string it, swatting Dom’s hand away as he ate it in heaping handfuls. When Orli said he didn’t have any family memories he cared to share, Dom squeezed his hand. Orli lit the candles of the Christmas wreath on the table—purple, purple, pink, purple, white—like he had in church, and sang O Holy Night, Billy joining in when his voice cracked with emotion. Viggo’s was the most fun—a retelling of the Christmas story from other cultures, the five of them acting certain scenes out with Viggo’s voice rising and falling with laughter and reverence. Viggo told a story like he sang his songs and they all applauded at the end. When they asked Sean what his favorite Christmas tradition was, he just smiled, leaning into Viggo’s warm hand against his back, and said simply “This.” And none of them could argue.

It had been Billy’s idea, of all people, to drag the mattresses into the living room and buffer them with couch cushions and blankets and watch the fire dance and pop. The winter air whipped through the un-insulated windows this time of year, and every room was cold. But the fireplace worked in this ancient building, and they had a good blaze going. They sang carols, all the traditional ones, in harmony. Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella. Coventry Carol. O Tannenbaum. Good King Wenceslas. When they forgot a verse to one, they moved on to the next, until it was one long song.

Viggo and Sean left late, with hugs and well wishes. No gifts this year—no one could afford them so they were forgotten. But they had each forgotten that rule a little bit, finding ways to give little things. Crazy socks for Dom, a mix CD for Orli, new writing books for Billy, Hindu poetry for Elijah. Second-hand stores were to blame, they insisted, not the Christmas spirit.

They kept the mattresses together, all of them sleepy from too much food and spiked drinks and the warmth of the fire and each other. Dom held Elijah close, his back flush against Dom’s chest. He made quips into the night about the weather in Manchester, or stupid yuppies, or Orli’s disturbing lack of manly facial hair, just to make Lijah laugh, just to feel the laugh against him. Baby-faced Orli (“I can’t have a goatee at work, fucker!”) lay with his head in Billy’s lap, his feet tangled with Dom and Elijah’s. Billy sat propped against the couch, a glass of cider in one hand, absently playing with Orli’s hair with the other. He was quiet, with the exception of a low hum that only Orlando could hear.

“What’s that song, love?”

“Just Silent Night. My mother used to sing it to us in Gaelic every year.”

“Sing us a bit.”

Billy’s eyes watered a bit as he began it, and Orlando twined his fingers into Billy’s and ran his thumb comfortingly over the palm.  
 _Sàmhach an oidhch', naomha an oidhch'_  
Saoghal 'na chadal; 's a-mach bho ar soills'  
Moire is Iòseph an stàball fàs  
Faire os cionn an Leinibh le gradh,  
Cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh,  
Cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh. 

“…I don’t remember any more. It was a long time ago.”

None of them spoke for a while after that.

“I think,” Billy said quietly as the Dom stoked the fire with newspapers, “this is the best Christmas since the one we had before my Da took ill.”

“Best for me since our last year in Germany,” said Dom surely, Elijah’s arm pulling him back into the jumble on the floor.

“Best for me since Hannah and I were old enough to believe in Santa Clause,” Elijah said sleepily into Dom’s shoulder.

“Best for me. Just. Ever.” Orlando whispered into Billy’s denim-clad thigh. Billy leaned down and gently kissed his temple, feeling the damp from tears Orlando rarely let himself shed.

“We’re certainly an odd Christmas picture, aren’t we?” Elijah tried to lighten the mood.

Dom laughed and ran his hand up and down Orlando’s side. “Appearances aren’t everything, love,” as Orlando nodded in agreement. “We’ve got more tattoos than most families, true, and I doubt you average holiday meal includes someone wearing a ‘Anarchist/AntiChrist’ T-shirt,”

“It’s vintage!” Orli protested.

“But we’ve certainly got the spirit, don’t you think?”

But Elijah’s lids were drooping and he could barely manage an “Mmmmm” before nodding off, Orlando following quickly behind.

“Bills?” Dom whispered now, watching the flames die out and pulling the blankets in closer.

“Yeah Dommie?” Billy’s voice was raspy from songs and emotion.

“Thanks for the great Christmas. You’re the best dad ever,” he added emphatically.

“Fuck you, you wanker.” But Dom could hear he was smiling.

“Fuck you too, man.” And hell, since ‘Fuck’ and “Love’ were pretty much interchangeable in punk anyhow, Dom figured that was as good a Christmas declaration as any.

Dom drifted off to the sounds of Elijah breathing and Billy humming softly in Orli’s ear.

 _Cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh,_  
Cadal gu nèamhaidh sèimh.

~Fin  



End file.
